A great portion of my life lately has revolved around my adventures in the city of Chicago, so I apologize in advance if I seem regionally biased today:
As a Bears fan, this Sunday's matchup against the Packers is just icing on the cake. Considering what a divisive rivalry Chicago and Green Bay have, it's a marvel to think we've only met in the NFL playoffs once before, nearly 70 years ago. It goes without saying that this is the most meaningful Monsters/Cheddarheads showdown of my lifetime. I still worry about "good Cutler" and "bad Cutler," but the fact that we've made it this far is either a testament to our defense and special teams or how underwhelming the NFC was this year. Either way, I'm quite placated.
When you think about it, the Chicago sports teams in their current incarnation are a lot like the original cast of "M*A*S*H." The Blackhawks are Hawkeye (natch), the Bears are Trapper, the Bulls are Col. Blake, the Cubs and White Sox are Ferret Face and Hot Lips --you know, the comic relief-- and the Sky is Radar. Each team possesses traces of that character's quirks: the Hawks are boozy and freewheeling, Da Bears are bumbling but affable, the Cubs are borderline incompetent and constantly blaming others for their shortcomings, and the Pale Hose are shrill and overly defensive. I vaguely remember Trapper wearing a basketball jersey in one episode, and if you can make a decent Radar/Sky analogy, let me know.
Meanwhile, two weeks ago I started Writing 3 at IO. After taking on late night monologue jokes and sketch comedy, the focus has shifted to perfecting a spec script. My weekly "homework" is slightly weightier and time-consuming --hence this short entry-- but I'm still enjoying the challenge the class provides. My original idea for an episode of "American Dad!" didn't seem to impress my colleagues, but now I'm running with something I'm far more satisfied with. Concurrently, I'm in improv Level 4B across the hallway, where we're finally approaching performance level. By my best estimate, my class will be performing sometime in late February. In the meantime, I'm still jamming for 12-15 minutes every late Saturday night as Lyndsay Hailey's opening act. For you locals out there, I hope you check it out sometime.
Next Week: the year in music, 1996.